


Invisibly Yours

by earthtostiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Car Sex, First Time, High School, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthtostiles/pseuds/earthtostiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greenberg has a secret crush on Stiles (has for ages) but Stiles doesn't even seem to notice he exists outside the brief conversations that always leave Greenberg aching for more. </p><p>After a brief misunderstanding, Danny decides it's about time Greenberg got over himself and decides to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisibly Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off a prompt by Kedreeva but I'm afraid I probably did not include as much shirtlessness as she would have liked, oh well.

 

The first time Greenberg met Stiles Stilinski, Greenberg was walking along the side of the road.

He was trying to walk home from the only attraction Beacon Hills had within a five mile radius, the Beacon Hills Historical Museum. It detailed the evolution of Beacon Hills from gold rush town to plain old small town. Greenberg had heard it all before, everyone in Beacon Hills had heard it all before, so he’d gone exploring.

He had his Spider-Man watch and he figured he could go to the ice cream shop just around the corner and be back before the bus came and even if he didn’t, he figured they couldn’t leave without him. It didn’t matter that no one he asked would go with him, he’d go alone; it was fine. It was better that way, at least now someone knew where he was. It was a foolproof plan, his 10 year old mind told him, nothing could go wrong.

He snuck out the front door while everyone was at the gold rush era of Beacon Hills. He heard a couple of “oohs” and “ahhs” as the door behind him, were they seriously that excited about a sifting pan? He was glad to have gotten out of there, even if it was alone.

He slowly walked to the corner, secretly hoping someone would come out and yell at him for leaving the group but no one did. As he turned the corner, he realized that the ice cream shop was on Maple Street and the Beacon Hills Historical Museum was on Maple Drive, which were not the same thing.

Greenberg considered turning back but decided against it, he wanted some ice cream and he was going to get some ice cream. They could wait for him for all he cared, he’s spent loads times waiting for them whenever someone dilly dallied on a field trip.

At the ice cream shop he ordered a chocolate waffle cone with sprinkles and gummy bears on top and he then carefully made his way back to the museum. As he turned the corner, he could see a big yellow blob a few streets away, he’d made it on time. Except they weren’t lined up outside to wait for the bus like the teacher usually ordered and the bus wasn’t coming closer, it was getting farther and farther away.

Greenberg ran.

He ran as fast as he could and he dropped his ice cream somewhere but the bus kept getting farther and farther away and the burning in his lungs and legs kept coming closer and closer. He stopped, or more accurately, his legs gave out.

He laid there, trying to catch his breath and trying not to laugh hysterically. They’d left him, they’d actually left him. Of all the scenarios he’d thought of, quite a few involving an amber alert and a countywide search, this one hadn’t occurred to him, not even once. He never thought they would leave him, he knew Ms. Smith  forgot about him sometimes and he’d have to remind her to mark him present but he never thought she’d ever forget about him ON A FIELDTRIP.

He considered laying there until someone found him and called his dad but with his luck, he wouldn't pick up. Instead, he got up and considered how far he was from his house. He knew he was a 10 minutes drive from the school and his house was another 10 minutes from there, he would walk that distance. It shouldn’t be that far.

He started walking confidently in the direction of the school; he could do this, he was 10. He could do this.

He made it to the edge of downtown before he realized that the road to the school didn’t have a sidewalk and was simply surrounded by trees. Whatever, he’d come this far, he wasn’t about to turn back. Besides, he’d seen the big kids walking along the edges as his they drove by all the time.

He was about halfway down the road before he heard a honk behind him; he didn’t dare turn around, he just walked faster. Then he heard the car slow down and stop all together. Oh god, he was about to be kidnapped, he was going to become that boy; the one everyone told their kids about in order to discourage them from doing dumb things like walking along the side of the road... and buying ice cream.

Greenberg swore his life flashed before his eyes and he tried to run, he did; it was just that his feet didn’t seem to be on the same page as his brain. This was it, he was going to get kidnapped and  found along the side of the road and his parents probably wouldn’t even notice or he would never be found, like that Paige girl that disappeared a few months ago.

“Greenberg!” he heard from behind him and his body instantly relaxed because he knew that voice.

His legs gave out from under him for the second time in what was probably less than an hour and he could feel tears start to form at the corner of his eyes but he didn’t care because he was so relieved. He knew that voice, it didn’t belong to any kidnapper and he knew it would never hurt him.

Strong arms pulled him up from the ground and he heard a peal of laughter coming from the car as the deputy asked him if he was hurt. He felt his face heat up as he looked up into the concerned face of Deputy Stilinski but answered in the negative; he was fine, just a bit dirty from the fall.

The deputy gave him a long look before asking him why he was walking on the side of the road and not at school like every other 10 year old in Beacon Hills. He couldn't help but turn to look at the patrol car and at the source of the laughter he’d heard earlier;The deputy followed Greenberg’s gaze and sighed.

“Every other 10 year old in Beacon Hills who didn’t have a doctor’s appointment today, smartypants, ” he amended and Greenberg laughed.

“Well you see...” he started before he stopped, unsure of exactly how to explain the fact that though he had technically had broken school rules by leaving the group, it still wasn’t his fault that he had gotten left behind. They should never have left without him, there was even a law about it! No child left behind or something and clearly he was a child that had been left behind.

He started again, “I might have sort of gone to the ice cream shop around the corner because we on a field trip to the historical museum and I've been there a million times and there’s never anything new!” He took a deep breath and looked at the ground before continuing.

“I figured I could get there and back before anyone noticed except it wasn’t around the corner but I was already outside so I figured a couple more minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone and it’s not like they could leave without me! Except when I came back that’s exactly what they did, they left. Isn’t that illegal?” Greenberg said quickly, trying to get it all out before he started crying.

“NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND!” he yelled out as an afterthought.

“Greenberg, that act has to do with standardized testing and federal funding.”

Greenberg continued to look at the ground, realizing his shoes were dirty. He’d only gotten them that weekend and he had made sure to keep them clean all week. Except now the sides were smudged with dirt and there were splashes of chocolate and a lone sprinkle on the toe of his right foot. He felt the way his shoes looked.

After a minute of silence, he chanced a look at the deputy who had his lips pressed together in that way adults do when they’re trying not to laugh because they need to be stern and serious and felt a little better.

“Well then they should have named it something else and saved the name for the law making it illegal for teachers to leave students behind on field trips,” Greenberg responded, his tone reflecting his pouting face.

The deputy cracked a smile at that and shook his head, from the car came a loud piercing laugh.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home,” he said gesturing towards the car and Greenberg immediately headed for the vacant passenger seat.

He tried to open the door but it was locked and when he looked up at the deputy, the man only shook his head and pointed to the backseat. The door opened and Greenberg got in, trying to take up the least amount of space possible and put on his seat belt before he looked up at the other boy.

He looked taller than Greenberg and was really skinny, he was also practically vibrating. Greenberg quickly looked away when he heard the the front driver’s side door opening.

“Stiles, do you know Greenberg from school?” the deputy asked his son once he had started the car and was slowly making his way down the road.

“No,” Stiles replied, “he’s in Ms. Thompson’s class and I’m in Mr. Smith’s class with Scott.

“Scott is my best friend,” Stiles told Greenberg, “he’s awesome and likes to play video games and doesn’t make fun of me when I fall down. He also has asthma so he can’t really run around but that’s totally cool because that means we can take more breaks and talk about Spider-man. Do you like Spider-man?”

“I like Spider-man,” Greenberg replied slowly before continuing, “but not as much as I like Batman. My dad took me to go see the movie when it came out and it was AWESOME.”

“WASN’T IT? My dad didn’t want to let me see it but Scott and I begged and begged and finally he gave in and took us.”

“A decision I instantly regretted,” the deputy chimed in from the front seat, “he went around in this overly exaggerated deep voice, talking about how we was going to protect Beacon Hills from the thugs that roamed the city, for months.”

“It was only ONE TIME!” Stiles yelled out, covering his face with his hands.

“Sure it was, kiddo.”

Greenberg turned to look at Stiles, who still had his hands over his face and laughed.

“I was thinking about being Batman for Halloween,” Greenberg told Stiles, who instantly took his hands off his face.

“OH MY GOD, I DIDN’T EVEN THINK OF THAT. DAD, DAD, DAD, DAD YOU HAVE TO GET ME A BATMAN COSTUME AND SCOTT COULD BE ROBIN. DAD.”

The deputy sighed and waited until Stiles took a breath before replied to his son.

“It’s barely October, Stiles.”

“So what Dad? We have to go now or all the awesome costumes will be gone and all that will be left are the crappy costumes. Like the werewolf ones, no one wants to be a werewolf, Dad!”

“I was a werewolf last year,” Greenberg pipped up, offended.

“But did you WANT to be a werewolf?” Stiles asked.

Greenberg thought about it, his mom had picked out his costume. He wanted to be Mario but no one at school wanted to do a partner costume and he put off telling his mom until the day before and by then the only costume in the store was the werewolf one.

“No,” Greenberg said and turned to the Stiles’ dad, “you have to go get the costume now before it’s too late.”

“See, Dad. I told you, we have to go now!”

“What do you want me to do, Stiles? Turn the car around?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not driving to the costume shop right now, Stiles. I’m on duty in half an hour.”

“But, Dad, all the good costumes will be gone if we don’t go nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”

“I’m sure they’ll still be there this weekend, we’ll go then.”

“Fine!” Stiles said and turned back to Greenberg, a triumphant look on his face.

“You should totally come trick-or-treating with Scott and me. It’s going to be awesome. We have a plan! We’re going to hit every house that gives the good candy and ignore the ones that give out carrots like the Hendersons and then go to Scott’s house to watch scary movies and eat candy until we puke.”

"That's awesome," Greenberg genuinely exclaimed, loud enough to drown out the deputy's 'that sounds disgusting, son', "I'll ask my dad."

“Awesome! So how do you feel about The Avengers?” Stiles exclaimed and he and Greenberg spent the rest of the car ride geeking out over various superheroes.

They were so busy talking that Greenberg didn’t even realize they had pulled up to his house until the Stiles’ dad called his name and he turned to face him.

“Are you parents home, son?” he asked.

“No,” Greenberg replied, “but I have a key.”

“Will you be okay staying home alone?” the deputy asked.

“Yeah, it’s only an hour or two before mom gets home. I usually just watch TV until then,” Greenberg said and he hopped out of the car.

When Greenberg reached the front door, he turned and noticed both Stiles and his dad watching from the car and he waved when he finally got the door open. He watched them pull away through the closed screen door and felt something twinge in his chest.

 

* * *

 

The next two days went a little something like this: Greenberg woke up and realized it wasn’t Monday and moped until it was time for bed. (He actually just played video games and watched TV all day.)

Monday morning dawned bright and early but Greenberg didn’t dawn with it, he overslept. By the time his mom realized he wasn’t eating breakfast, school had already started and he was late.

Greenberg was upset but he was only late for school, not late for recess, which was what he was really looking forward to. Except when the recess bell rang, the teacher made everyone stay inside until they formed a nice orderly line; a line Greenberg ended up at the end of.

By the time he got outside, every other class was out and playing. The monkey bars, which were Greenberg’s favorite, were already all taken, but Greenberg didn’t care to pick fights over his right to use them today. Today he was on a mission.

He walked around looking for Stiles and eventually found him facing a tree with his arms around his head. He went to tap him on the shoulder and ask what he was doing, except Stiles looked up, exclaimed, “Here I come, Scott!” and ran away before Greenberg had the opportunity.

Greenberg chased after him but before he could catch up, he tripped over a rock.

“MAN DOWN!” he yelled at Stiles’ back but Stiles kept running; he didn’t even spare a glance back at him.

Greenberg got up slowly and made his way over to a bench to look at his hands and knees, sparing glaces at the direction Stiles had gone in the entire time. He had pieces of gravel stuck to his hands and bleeding scrapes on both of his knees.

He slowly made his way over to the bathroom to wash out his wounds, but by the time he made his way back out, the bell had rung and it was time to head inside.

He tried to talk to Stiles again at lunch but he couldn’t find him anywhere.

He tried again the next day but Stiles just looked through him when he went up to him.

He tried again the day after that but Stiles was too busy playing carroms with his friend to pay attention to him.

He tried again the next day but Stiles was too busy following Lydia Martin around to notice Greenberg trailing around behind him.

It hurt a little more every time he overheard Stiles proclaiming his undying love for Lydia.

And that’s how Greenberg spent the rest of elementary school, trailing behind a boy who forgot he even existed.

 

* * *

 

Things changed for Greenberg in middle school, when Jared moved in to Beacon Hills. He was a little awkward and a little strange and got lumped together with Greenberg by default; they became best friends.

Despite now having a friend, Greenberg still longed to talk to Stiles. They had most classes together now and every time he talked, Greenberg remembered that afternoon and the brief conversation they’d shared.

Greenberg longed to ask him what he’d thought about the rumors about the sequel to Batman Begins and whether he thought Spider-Man 3 sucked as much as Greenberg did.

(He and Jared had gone the first Saturday it was out and he had seen Scott and Stiles seated two rows in front of them, loaded down with popcorn and drinks; Stiles fidgeted throughout the entire movie.)

At least he no longer trailed after Stiles, he now had Jared to hang out with at lunch, though hearing Stiles moan about Lydia and Jackson Whittemore dating and how he could be so much better for her hurt him more than Stiles simply professing his love for her ever did.

Greenberg wanted to scream and shout that Stiles was too good for Lydia Martin; Stiles was too good for anyone.

 

* * *

 

Greenberg finally got a chance to talk to Stiles one on one near the end of seventh grade—by that time he’d stopped thinking about Stiles as much, instead choosing to focus more on his friendship with Jared—when the teacher assigned partners for their end of the year project in world history.

“Hey, so I guess we’re partners,” Greenberg told Stiles, setting down his stuff on the desk and sitting down.

“Yeah,” Stiles said distractedly, making a face over Greenberg’s shoulder. He turned around and noticed Scott, who was making a face right back, and Jackson, who just looked unamused.

“Everyone take a seat!” the teacher yelled over the chattering made by the newly formed groups.

“This project will be worth 10% of your final grade so listen up! Your job will be to choose two events or two people we studied this year and make a poster comparing and contrasting them. You will have until the end of the period to choose your topics. Does everyone understand?”

The class chorused a yes and every group immediately started chattering about possible topics.

“Do you have any ideas?” Greenberg asked, turning to look at Stiles who was writing in his notebook.

“Well I was thinking World War I and World War II but everyone’s probably going to end up picking those and listening to five million presentations on the same thing is going to get boring,” Stiles said still writing.

“What about a person then?” Greenberg suggested, flipping through the textbook like everyone else in the class. “Then we won’t have to worry about sticking to a specific time period,” he added.

“Yeah!” Stiles said, carefully tearing the page out of his notebook and folding it into sloppy squares, “how about Napoleon?”

“Sounds good, that way we won’t have to worry about describing all the phases of the French Revolution. Who should we compare him to, though? Hitler?”

“Nah, Hitler’s too obvious. We should do someone earlier. Like, um... Julius Caesar.”

“Caesar was okay though, and Napoleon was kind of a jerk. They’re not really comparable unless the point is to have the list of differences outweigh the list of similarities,” Greenberg pointed out.

“Nah, they totally have some similarities,” Stiles said, throwing his folded piece of paper at Scott, except it totally missed and hit Jackson instead, causing him to glare and Stiles to shrug gleefully in his direction.

“Like what?” Greenberg countered.

“Well,” Stiles said, finally facing Greenberg straight on, “they were both in the military and they both declared themselves absolute rulers, and I’m sure there’ll be tons more once we actually start researching.”

“Okay,” Greenberg said and wrote their names and topic on a piece of paper to hand to the teacher, “what kind of presentation do you want to do?”

“We can just make a poster, that’ll be the easiest and we can totally dress up as Caesar and Napoleon, it’ll be awesome.”

“Cool, do you want to be Napoleon or Caesar?”

“I’ll be Napoleon. I can find a red jacket and then just walk on my knees because he was like super short, and you could be Caesar and like wear a toga and make a crown out of leaves and stuff.”

“Sure, that’ll be cool.”

Stiles just nodded and looked over to Scott and Jackson who sounded like they were arguing over which  country Hitler invaded and started World War II.

“So,” Greenberg said, drawing out the syllables, “have you seen Iron Man?”

“Have I seen Iron Man?” Stiles asked incredulously. “Are you seriously asking? Of course I’ve seen Iron Man!”

The conversation flowed from there. They talked about how awesome Robert Downey Jr. was and how much the last Spider-Man movie sucked. Then the conversation moved in to Batman and the new movie coming out that summer.

“Yeah! Scott and I are planning on going to the midnight premier all dressed up and stuff. Hopefully our costumes from a couple of years ago still fit. I was Batman and he was Robin when we were like 10, it was awesome; we got SO much candy that year.”

Greenberg remembered that year, his dad had gotten him the Batman costume he had whined about wanting after he’d seen the first Batman movie.

He also remembered seeing Stiles and Scott walking around, they looked like the perfect duo. Greenberg kept getting asked where his Robin was but he just ignored them because how could he have told them that everyone he’d asked had ignored him. He’d stopped after about an hour and walked home, not wanting to hear them compare him to the ‘two cuties that stopped here not ten minutes ago.’

He wanted to say remember when your dad picked me up on the side of the road and we talked about Batman. Instead he said ‘that’s cool’ and talked about how last year he and Jared had dressed up as Wolverine and Cyclops and pretended to argue over who would ring the doorbell.

They talked for the rest of the period and every time Stiles laughed, Greenberg felt something grow warm in his chest. He smiled for the rest of the day.

They finished their project early and spent the rest of the week pretending to glue things on their poster board and just talking. Greenberg spent approximately half an hour trying to guess Stiles’ first name before he gave up and Stiles had just laughed harder and harder as each of Greenberg's attempts got more and more outlandish.

They were the first group up to present and any other time Greenberg would have felt nervous enough to consider puking on his shoes--he was wearing a toga for christ's sake--but Stiles was up there next to him (he walked, if what he did could be considered walking, with with his shoes on his knees and had immediately asked Greenberg how the weather was up there) and Greenberg felt steady; he felt ready.

 

* * *

 

Their presentation went off without a hitch, at least if you ignored Jackson’s question of why Greenberg was wearing a dress at the very end, and Greenberg felt great. At the end of  the period he tried to talk to Stiles, except Stiles was praising Lydia over her ingenious idea of comparing Alexander the Great and Napoleon.  

Greenberg called it bad timing and left for the bathroom; he had Algebra next and was not about to walk in there with a freaking toga on.

Except the next day, Stiles was still ignoring every attempt Greenberg made at talking to him.

And the next day.

And the next.

Greenberg was hurt. Jared told him to forget about that jerk, told him someone like that wasn’t worth it. Except Greenberg didn’t want to forget about Stiles, he liked Stiles. He wanted to be Stiles’ friend and talk to him about Batman and go to the movies with him. Of course, he could do all that stuff with Jared, but Jared didn’t make him feel that same kind of warm inside when he laughed.

They were partnered up two more times the next year and each time, Stiles talked and laughed and joked with him as they worked but ignored him as soon as the project was over.

 

* * *

 

That same year Danny Mahealani dated Aaron Cook (who was older, already in high school, and totally cool) and Greenberg came face to face with the fact that maybe all boys didn’t like girls. Well, he knew all guys didn’t like girls and all girls didn’t like guys, but those always seemed to be for the older kids, kids in high school. Greenberg didn’t know anyone gay his age, and so Danny made a lasting impression.

Greenberg thought about Danny a lot after that, he also thought a lot about Stiles and Jared. Greenberg liked Jared. Jared was his friend and they had a lot of fun together. Greenberg also liked Stiles, but Stiles made him feel warm inside when he laughed, he demanded his attention whenever they were in the same room, and Greenberg liked talking to Stiles.

And it wasn’t like Greenberg was completely clueless. He was a teenage boy—he'd masturbated before, he'd had hard-ons; practically everything gave him a boner. So what if he occasionally got one when he thought about talking to Stiles, he’d also gotten one that one time the Nurse had hugged him after he’d been accidentally pushed into the locker by someone running down the hallway.

Except Danny had gotten him thinking about it being more than just a over influx of hormones and puberty. He never thought about Stiles like that, he never thought about anyone like that, he got off to a series of faceless images of people on the internet, and so what if they were nice and firm and had moles more than half the time.

I mean sure, he thought Lydia Martin was pretty, everyone thought Lydia Martin was pretty (and she knew it) but he also thought Jackson was pretty; they were a pretty couple.

Greenberg began noticing things, like the small trail of hair he spied growing on Stiles’ lower stomach when they changed for P.E. and how Jackson’s arms were slowly filling out.

He also noticed how much softer girls were in comparison to boys, how much less their veins popped out when they wrote or picked things up.

He spent a few weeks just observing everyone around him (and asking Jared tons of hypothetical questions about his spank bank material) and debating. Did he like girls? Did he like boys? He didn’t know, he’d never been with anyone like that, and the more he thought about it the more his head hurt. He tried thinking about girls and he thought about boys and he got off and it just became a big jumbled mess in his brain.

 

* * *

 

He entered high school a trainwreck. He was having a sexual identity crisis whether he wanted to admit it or not, and on top of that he just felt so _scattered_. Beacon Hills High was so much bigger than the middle school, and everything was so much harder. The classes were harder, moving around was harder, and he was harder; everywhere he looked, he saw hordes of attractive people and he was reacting to it more than he’d care to say.

Then there was Stiles, who had gotten a little bit taller over the summer, just enough that Greenberg would have to look up in order to talk to him if they were standing chest to chest, and oh did that thought sent a shiver down his spine.

His theory was proven after winter break, when due to some faulty planning by the school counselor the entirety of the freshman and senior classes ended up with messed up schedules. The result was over a thousand students crammed into the office demanding to get their schedules fixed first.

Greenberg was miserable. He was surrounded on all sides by loud sweaty teenagers, he’d been elbowed at least twice, someone’s binder was poking into his side, and he’d lost Jared in the initial rush. He couldn’t even get out if he wanted to--it was so densely packed that trying to fight his way out might just lead to his demise. Maybe if he pretended to faint, they’d let him out.

He was seriously considering just going for broke and letting himself go limp when he heard someone yell out ‘STILES’ and a returning ‘SCOTTY’ from somewhere to his right. He managed to twist himself enough to see Stiles yelling out for Scott, who was being pushed in the direction of the office door by a pretty impressive line of seniors.

He debated trying to talk to Stiles; he’d been ignored so many times before (not just by Stiles but by everyone is this godforsaken town) it didn’t really faze him anymore, but he didn’t think he could handle getting shot down in front of half the school. However, he was surrounded by so many people, he could just play dumb and pretend he was talking to himself, or better yet pretend someone else said it.

“This is ridiculous, isn’t it?” he said, rubbing his shoulder after someone’s bag hit him as they raised their arms (and their voice).

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles replied, turning to face him. “I have idea how they even managed to screw it up this bad, the only thing they needed to do was switch out Health for Geography. That’s it.”

“Maybe it was some sort of senior prank?” he offered.

“Nah, there’s too many of seniors in here looking murderous for it to have been them,” Stiles replied, quickly stepping back (or as much as one could step back in the hellhole) as a particularly huge senior pushed through the space where he had been standing.

“Are you okay? That guy looked like he would have crushed you with one hand.”

“I’m fine,” Stiles said untensing his body from where he had tried to make himself as tiny as possible and Greenberg found himself staring at Stiles’ arms and hands where the veins had popped out a bit from where he had tensed up; Greenberg wanted to run his hands up and down those arms.

“Are you okay?” Stiles said and Greenberg snapped out of this small reverie involving Stiles and those fingers.

“Yeah,” Greenberg laughed it off, “just lacking a little bit off oxygen over here.” The crowd pushed forward a bit as if to prove his point.

“I’ve got a little bubble of room over here,” Stiles offered gesturing around himself.

“Oh cool, let me just...” Greenberg said trying to figure out the best way to try and push his way through the small but densely packed people between them. He tried to push through using his arms to create space in front of him but just ended up getting his arms stuck between people.

“Try to turn,” Stiles said attempting to demonstrate and Greenberg only ended up stuck diagonally.

“Here just...” Stiles said, trying to move around a bit to show him to move his body  before getting frustrated, muttering ‘fuck it’ and reaching for his hand. It was soft, Greenberg thought in the split second before Stiles pulled and Greenberg somehow forced his way through a group of cursing freshman; and strong, he thought afterward.

“Thanks,” Greenberg said looking up at Stiles just the tiniest bit. “I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be able to make it through.” he told Stiles and smiled.

“No problem,” Stiles looked like he was blushing, and though it might have just been the body heat surrounding them, Greenberg felt his heart flutter just a little anyway.

They stood there just talking for a few minutes and discussing their classes and teachers before someone up at the front of the line announced that they were going to stop doing schedule changes in 15 minutes and start again after lunch and the crowd suddenly surged forward. Greenberg almost tripped and he definitely got elbowed but he managed to stay in front of Stiles.

“Holy shit,” Stiles said when they crowd had stopped trying to run them all over and everyone was just pressed together.

“Sorry,” Greenberg said awkwardly, looking up at Stiles from where they ended up pressed chest to chest. “I can’t really move away,” he continued, wriggling a little to see if that would make the people around him would move.

It didn’t.

“It’s fine,” Stiles said, his face redder than it had been earlier and Greenberg’s heart was racing, they were so close that Greenberg could feel the heat radiating from Stiles’ body.

They continued talking like that, pressed up against one another and Greenberg could feel it every time Stiles laughed, he could feel it go through him and he felt warm inside. He loved the way Stiles laughed with his whole body because kind of threw his head back and leaned into Greenberg at the same time.

Greenberg wanted to touch his neck, wanted to make Stiles laugh and then help guide his head towards his, he wanted to kiss Stiles so bad his fingers twitched.

But all good things must end and 15 minutes went by in the blink of an eye. They didn’t notice until suddenly they were being pushed at from all sides, everyone eager to go outside and get lunch. Greenberg actually tripped this time and was only able to stay on his feet because he managed to grab onto someone’s shoulder. Except that shoulder pushed him to the left and the crowd pushed Stiles to the right.

“See ya!” he heard Stiles yell out to him before he hit the sunlight. He looked around for Stiles and found him after a few minutes, he was a few yards away talking to Scott. He debated going over there but didn’t think he could handle Stiles ignoring him after being so close to him he could see the little shine he got in his eyes when he told Greenberg about how his dad was now the sheriff even though Greenberg knew that, had known since forever. Instead, Greenberg just looked around for Jared.

He found Jared talking to a man with crazy hair and even crazier eyes. The man looked at him as he walked up to them and narrowed his eyes when he saw the logo on his T-shirt. Jared didn’t seem to notice and enthusiastically told Greenberg about how the man, Coach Finstock, was the Lacrosse coach and he told Jared that tryouts were today after school and how they were totally going to tryout, it was going to be awesome!

“Just don’t show up with that stinking T-shirt!” the Coach yelled at Greenberg before walking away from the two boys.

Greenberg glanced at his shirt and the Raiders logo emblazoned on the front and sighed, it had been a misguided gift from a relative and unfortunately his last clean shirt.

“You don’t think he was serious, do you?” Greenberg asked Jared.

“Probably not, it’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

It was not fine.

First he got so caught up sneaking glances at Stiles out of the corner of his eye that he didn’t notice a shoe on the ground and tripped... into Jackson Whittemore, who threw him off and into the lockers.

“Are you okay?” Jared said, rushing over.

“I’m fine,” Greenberg replied, looking down at his shoes and turning red at the laughter that accompanied the display; he was too scared to look up and face the possibility that Stiles might have been laughing at him too.

Things only got worse from there when Coach Finstock literally growled at Greenberg when he stepped onto the field and immediately ordered 50 suicides courtesy of Mr. Raider and everyone glared at him. He was going to die, he was sure of it.

His legs burned by the 10th and by the 15th he was moving only just faster than a snail, by the 20th he was sure he was going to pass out and by the 25th he was done. He wasn’t the only one, thank god, Scott has gotten out pretty early on, Stiles with him and so had a couple of other boys. Jared was still going strong, and along with Jackson, Danny and some upperclassmen.

When everyone had quit (except for Jackson who did all 50 and was a smug asshole about it) the coach ordered basic drills which included running with the ball and shooting into the net. Greenberg somehow managed to just barely dodge the tackle but tripped when he tried to continue forward; his face went in one direction, his crosse in the other and the ball somehow made it into the net. Greenberg was shocked, the line behind him was shocked and Finstock--he was the quietest Greenberg had ever heard.

Jared was tackled on his first try and missed the goal by a mile on the second, Scott and Stiles were both tackled on their first tries but managed to make the ball in on the second. Jackson performed the exercise flawlessly, that jerk.

By the end of practice, Greenberg was exhausted, sweaty, hungry and… somehow on the lacrosse team. So were Scott, Stiles, Danny and Jackson (who actually made first string while the rest of them were all second stringers); Jared didn’t make the team at all. Greenberg offered just quitting because really, he couldn’t do this without Jared, but Finstock overheard and yelled about commitments and natural talent even if he was a damn Raiders fan, and told Jared he should try out for track and field.

 

* * *

 

After practice—after Greenberg almost slammed his locker door on his fingers because he was too busy being distracted by Stiles’ entire being because god his skin looked so soft and so smooth and Greenberg just wanted to touch, to run his fingers down Stiles’ chest, to play connect the dots with his moles—he decided to talk to Danny. He was tired of being confused, maybe he just wanted someone to confirm what he already knew, either way Danny was his only option.

Their conversation started with something like a blurted, ‘So you like guys, right?’ on Greenberg’s part and something like a calm ‘Yeah, why?’ on Danny’s.

“It’s just I don’t...uhhh,” Greenberg paused before trying to start again. “I think that I might possibly maybe be into, uh, guys.”

“Dude,” Danny said, the look on his face more than a little irritated. “I might be gay but I’m not going to be your personal advisor on all things male. Can’t you go to the guidance counselor or something?”

“I would, but she’s really creepy, I saw her chanting or something at the vets office a couple of years ago and, yeah, I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Well what about your friend, the one on the track team. What’s his name again? Jason? James,? Josh...? I know this! Umm...Jared! Yes. What about him?”

“I’ve tried but he doesn’t get it, he’s awesome and supportive but he just doesn’t get it.”

There must have been something in his expression, something Danny saw that made him sigh and look resigned.

“Okay, fine, I'll help you out. So why do you think you might like guys? Is there anyone in particular that brought those thoughts about?”

“Well, there’s this one guy on the team, Stiles, and well it’s just I thought I just wanted him to be my friend but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I also really want to hold his hand and run my hands down his chest and play Marvel vs Capcom with him and maybe kiss him quiet.”

Danny was silent for a long time (at least it seemed like a long time to Greenberg who was so scared Danny would stay that way forever and he’d just never get an answer) before speaking.

“I don’t think the question here is whether or not you like guys. I think the question is whether or not you like Stiles, and it seems like you do and that’s all there is to it. You like him, and it doesn’t really seem to matter if it’s because he’s a guy or not,” he said and Greenberg’s head spun and then it stopped it and it was like something just clicked and all those pieces that had been floating around his head for months, no years, just fell into place.

“I think you’re right. Thanks Danny,” Greenberg said sincerely, smiling at Danny so hard his cheeks hurt.

Danny looked a bit embarrassed but told Greenberg to come find him if he had any other pressing problems before he walked away.

 

* * *

 

Freshman year ended in a blur of schoolwork, lacrosse, and a million texts sent to Danny. Finstock soon found out that the goal Greenberg had shot was nothing but a fluke and that, plus the fact that he thought Greenberg was a Raiders fan, made for a lot of running and screaming aimed at Greenberg.

Sophomore year was shaping up to be a lot of the same, except now he had to deal with Finstock in class as well as out of class and he and Stiles (and Scott) shared every single class. He spent that first semester juggling staring at Stiles, doing his class work and trying to not to fall asleep in Madame McDonald's french class. All in all, first semester was pretty uneventful. It was second semester when things got weird.

It started with a dead girl in the woods (half a dead girl if you wanted to be accurate) and a (very much alive) new girl at school.

Then he kept overhearing really strange conversions between Stiles and Scott where the only thing that seemed to make sense was the word werewolf. At first he thought that maybe they were talking about Twilight, and Twilight he could deal with, but then the conversations got weirder and weirder and Stiles and Scott actually sounded like the believed werewolves were real.

Jared only laughed when Greenberg told him and responded with an “that’s it then, he’s either batshit or really in love with Twilight,” which didn’t help any; something was off and more and more people kept dying.

But dying people or not, Greenberg and Jared’s bro night would go on; it was tradition.

Except, there was a slight hitch in their plans.

 

* * *

 

“How did you forget to get the movie on your way home from school?” Greenberg asked Jared, driving towards the video store.

“I just forgot.”

“You literally have to walk right past it to get home.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“To do what? Masturbate?” Greenberg said as he began parking.

“Yes,” Jared replied with a completely serious face before losing it and doubling it over.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious,” Greenberg said and got out of the car.

He leaned in to look at Jared, who was looking at him.

“You’re the one who set that joke up, so I don’t know wh-” Jared was drowned out by the sound of breaking glass and Greenberg looked up in time to see a hulking, distorted wolf racing past the only other car in the lot.

“Holy shit, did you just see that?” Greenberg yelled out, getting back into the car as quickly as he could and locking the door.

“No. What the hell happened? The glass is all broken,” Jared said, peering through the window at the storefront.

“Dude, I swear a huge freaking wolf just broke through the freaking window,” Greenberg said and Jared gave him a skeptical look before asking him if he hit his head on the car door getting out.

“Of course I didn’t hit my freaking head, you were looking at me the whole time.”

“Hey, it was a legitimate question! You couldn’t have seen a wolf, there are no wolves in California.

“Well I saw one! And it was huge and black and I swear it looked at me with these glowing red eyes,” Greenberg said, waving his arms around to punctuate his point.

“Okay. Okay.” Jared held out his hands in front of him and turned to look out the window at the faint sounds of sirens. “If you say you saw it, you saw it. Just, uh, don’t tell the cops that because I believe you, I do, but they might not,” Jared said as the cop car pulled into the parking lot.

Greenberg and Jared gave their statements and headed home, with Jared behind the wheel.

When Greenberg asked Jared what he would do if Greenberg told him that what he thought he saw was a werewolf, Jared only laughed and said he’d shove him at Stilinski so they could bond over their love of werewolves. Greenberg laughed along but his brain was going a million miles a minute, he couldn’t even concentrate on the shitty 80’s movie they found while channel surfing.

There was only one thing he knew for sure: Greenberg was never renting a movie again, he would have to make do with the on demand and the internet.

 

* * *

 

A lot of things fell into place after that and now that Greenberg actually started to understand the whispered conversations between Scott and Stiles, he soon found out that there was more than one werewolf in town, about the hunters that wanted to kill Scott and how he was dating the daughter of one of those hunters. It was enough to make him want to run and hide and never leave his room again—and he wasn’t even in the thick of the action.

Greenberg researched werewolves extensively, and though in the end he found no useful information beyond what he already knew, it didn’t stop him from buying powdered wolfsbane online and carrying it around with him.

People kept dying and all Greenberg could do was whisper answers to Scott in class and hope he was one of the good guys.

Then, just as Greenberg was getting used to the werewolf talk, writing down anything he overheard and then researching it later, they began talking less about werewolves and more about reptiles.

Greenberg didn’t get it, how did they get from werewolves to lizards? Maybe he was actually crazy, maybe he had wanted to believe there was an explanation so bad that he made himself see a freaking werewolf crash through a window. Maybe all Stiles and Scott had been talking about all this time was some indie video game Greenberg hadn’t heard of and Greenberg had just been whispering answers into the wind.

Crazy or not, people were still dying and it was all Greenberg could do not to yell out at Stiles to just stop, to stay safe because Greenberg didn’t know what he’d do if he got hurt.

Danny wasn’t any help, he was worried about Jackson (who was acting even stranger than usual).

Then Scott and Jackson destroyed the locker room (...and the library) and Greenberg began researching the possibility of were-lizards. There wasn’t much information but Greenberg wasn’t going to rule out the possibility.

God, maybe he was crazy. He thought maybe he wanted to be crazy because these things couldn’t possibly exist. It was probably just animal attacks, nothing remotely human or supernatural about them.

 

* * *

 

Greenberg wasn’t aware of the day the killings stopped, not until afterward.

After Stiles showed up to school with the biggest bruise on his face, claiming to have gotten jumped by the guys from Beacontown High after the game (the only problem was that the bruise looked less like it had come from a fist and more from having had his face dragged across a carpet). Greenberg felt a surge of anger and helplessness whenever he looked at Stiles; he just wanted to yell at him to stop involving himself in whatever it was that was happening  because people were dead and those bruises seemed to form the shape of a target on his back.

After Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes disappeared and Stiles got this look on his face every time their names were mentioned. This hollow look that flashed for a second before being replaced by a false look of confusion.

After Jackson Whittemore was declared dead but came back to life and was shipped off to London. (Not that Danny knew and god was it hard to keep from telling Danny everything he knew but Greenberg didn’t want to take the chance that Danny wouldn’t believe him and would just end up hurt more.)

When he finally did realize that the local newspaper had stopped publishing obituaries and was instead running ads in that space, he pinpointed the day the killings stopped to that Monday that Stiles showed with a bruise on his cheek and a strained smile on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Summer was strange; the days passed in a blur of sticky skin, strange lights and the smell of sunscreen. He and Jared split their time between Jared’s house, the pool, and the parking lot of the Arby’s at the edge of town (Danny had opted to go to some lacrosse camp all the way across the country).

Sometimes Greenberg freaked out about junior year but they mostly played video games and swam. Jared loved the pool and Greenberg just put on sunscreen with the highest SPF number and reapplied continuously.

They both loved hanging out in the parking lot, it was empty half the time and they could just stare up at the lights and talk as the world went on around them.

“Can you believe that summer’s almost over?” Greenberg asked Jared, taking a sip from the drink they had bought before heading outside.

“Yesssss,” Jared said, stressing the last letter. “After all, you mention it like every other conversation.”

“I do not!” Greenberg said indignantly.

Jared only laughed before continuing,“you do, but yeah man, it’s hard to believe we’re going to be juniors in less than a month.”

“I’m not going to lie, I half thought we weren’t going to make it. Last year was a mess,” Greenberg said, taking a sip of his lemonade before passing the cup to Jared.

“That’s an understatement.”

“I know but it’s better than saying, what? That a whole bunch of people ended up dead, that two of our classmates are missing, and that we THINK IT WAS WEREWOLVES?”

“I guess,” Jared said slowly, before passing the cup back and asking Greenberg if he knew when they were going to get their schedules.

 

* * *

 

Greenberg spent the summer suspended in time and it was a hard crash back to reality when school started. The school looked the same and Greenberg felt the same. He also looked the same for the most part (he’d grown a bit, might actually have become as tall as Stiles) but apart from that, he might as well have still been a sophomore for all the outside showed.

Stiles, though, looked different. His hair was longer, his steps were lighter and he looked happy in a way Greenberg hadn’t seen since the end of freshman year. Just looking at him made Greenberg feel lighter but he also felt like he was being left behind (which was ridiculous, because to be left behind you’d have to have been noticed in the first place, and no one noticed Greenberg).

Just as quickly as it came, the lightness disappeared as the headlines proclaimed a drop in temperature.

Greenberg didn’t think he’d ever be able to take a step inside the public pool again, not without picturing one of his classmates floating facedown in the middle.

It was just like before, but this time listening in on Stiles and Scott’s conversations offered no help; for once they were just as clueless as he was and things only got worse from there. More people died and then birds attacked. It was like a Hitchcock movie but worse because it was his _life_ —he couldn’t just google and figure out the plot of the movie without having to watch it all play out.

Once again all he could do was just wait on the sidelines and hope the next one picked wasn’t him, a lot like how he felt about lacrosse actually. Except lacrosse didn’t come with the agonizing realization that if they didn’t pick him, they picked someone else and that person ended up dead, like _never coming back_ dead.

Slowly, Stiles seemed to gain some clue of what was happening and so did Greenberg. The growing list of bodies were really sacrifices, human sacrifices; someone was killing his classmates for whatever bullshit reason solely based on the fact that they were still virgins.

Greenberg, reasonably, was freaking out while Jared just gave him sad looks because Jared had somehow hit a home run at camp the summer after freshman year and therefore didn’t have to worry about the possibility of getting kidnapped and becoming the victim of some wannabe witch who felt it was cool to murder people.

 

* * *

 

When Greenberg had first told Jared what he overheard, Jared told him that she was probably all ‘soft grunge’ with hipster glasses and Greenberg smacked him upside the head before groaning over the fact that yeah, she probably was and how the only thing worse getting kidnapped and becoming a human sacrifice was being kidnapped and becoming a human sacrifice to someone with pastel purple hair. Jared only laughed, that asshole.

When Greenberg brought up the possibility that he probably (most definitely) needed to lose his V-card to Danny, Danny suggested he man up and tell Stiles that he was into him and then they could have awkward virgin sex and that Danny himself would even provide the condoms and lube. He then laughed at the look on Greenberg’s face before walking away, that asshole.

Greenberg was continuously on high alert and he wasn’t the only one, Stiles seemed to get more and more worried as the bodies continued to pile up; virgin after virgin after virgin with no end in sight.

Greenberg was also getting increasingly more pissed off, everyone just went on like normal, like their classmates weren’t being strangled and beaten and just left in the woods like they were animals. No one seemed to care about all the death that surrounded them. Soccer went on like normal, Tennis went on like normal, Track went on like normal. Greenberg understood that the world didn’t just stop because someone died, but he wanted some acknowledgement, some moments of silence, but no one seemed to care. Did that mean that if it ever was him that was next, or if Stiles was next, that no one would care? No one beyond the one or two people who saw them every day.

 

* * *

 

“Do you seriously have practice today?” Greenberg asked Jared, leaning against the row of lockers opposite Jared’s.

“We need to practice all we can, we’re trying to get the state finals.”

“I know, but do you seriously not care that they found one of our classmates strung up to a tree on the path yesterday?”

“Yes, I care! But life doesn't stop just because someone died. I get it, you’re scared. I’m scared for you too, but you can’t just yell at me for going to practice.” Jared said and walked away.

“He’s right, you know,” Danny said, walking around a set of lockers and sitting down next to Greenberg.

“Life doesn’t just stop because someone is dead, no matter how much we wish it would. After Jackson, I was angry for a really long time because it felt like no one but me cared that he was just gone. Everyone seemed to have moved on and there I was, mourning my best friend every day until I realized that if Jackson could have seen me, he would laughed his ass off and then demanded we go out. We don’t honor the dead by moping around and yelling at anyone who doesn’t do the same,” Danny said quietly. “We honor them by living our lives for them, by taking chances and being happy.”

“You really think so?” Greenberg said, looking at Danny. Danny who had had lost his best friend last year but had kept going. Danny who still didn’t know Jackson was alive no matter how badly Greenberg wanted to tell him.

“Yeah, I do. Now stop being a jackass and apologize to Jared and you know what? While you’re at it, take a chance; tell Stiles how you feel. If all this death has taught us anything, it’s that life is too short to spend it pining like a middle schooler. It’s not a good look for you, believe me.”

“I do not pine like a middle schooler,” Greenberg replied, making a face at the thought.

“You do, admit it. Now i’m going to go to practice and leave you to your moping and if you don’t make up with Jared by the end of the week, I’ll have the lacrosse team flip your backpack every period.”

“And you’re calling me immature?”

“I’m simply reaching you in a manner you’ll be sure to understand, seeing as you’re stuck in middle school and all,” Danny said, walking away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious,” Greenberg yelled out at Danny’s back, before leaving the locker room and heading home to think things over (he didn’t pine or mope no matter what Danny might say).

 

* * *

 

Sometime during the course of the night, it was around eleven if he wanted to be perfectly honest but he was so tired it felt like three in the morning, he realized that Danny was right. He tried calling Jared as soon as his epiphany had hit but all he got was his voicemail.

At school the next day, Jared kept finding ways to get out of having to talk to Greenberg. He would sit at a different seat, tell the teacher he had to go to the office or just plain ignore him.

After school, Greenberg practically ran to the locker room, determined to corner Jared and make him listen to Greenberg’s apology. Except Jared wasn’t there so Greenberg just waited and waited and waited. It wasn’t until everyone was coming back inside to change after practice that Greenberg realized that Jared probably knew what he was planning and had just headed home.

Greenberg was picking up his stuff where he had spread it around in a (failed) attempt to be productive when he heard a familiar voice speaking rather loudly from the other side of the row of lockers.

“Did he look like a virgin? Was he, you know, virginal?”

Greenberg was seriously confused, what was Stiles even talking about?

“No, definitely not. Deaton makes me have sex with all his clients, it’s a new policy,” Greenberg heard Scott reply.

Greenberg was officially confused. The werewolf talk, he got; this, not so much.

Scott continued talking and someone was missing? Greenberg wondered who it was and if they were taken or just simply lost somewhere. Kids got lost in the preserve all the time, it was normal.

Greenberg was snapped away from his thoughts by a loud exclamation from the other side. Did he just hear that right? Did Stiles just yell out that he was a virgin. Greenberg’s brain might have short-circuited a little at the thought that just maybe, he could be the first one touch Stiles, to trace the moles beneath his shirt.

“Okay, I need to have sex, like, right now. Someone needs to have sex with me, like, today. Like, someone needs to sex me right now.” Greenberg’s brain definitely short-circuited at that and he pressed himself closer to the lockers, like if he tried hard enough he could materialize in front of Stiles and take his clothes off.

The next words Greenberg heard seemed to steal the floor right out from under him.

“All right, I’ll do it,” That wasn’t Stiles and that definitely wasn’t Scott. It sounded a lot like Danny but couldn’t be, Danny wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“Come to my place at nine, plan to stay the night.”

He would.

Greenberg felt sick, this wasn’t happening. He was dreaming or something, he closed his eyes but when he opened them he was still pressed up against the cold metal.

“I like to cuddle.”

Oh god, he was going to be sick. He didn’t even bother to stay and listen to Stiles’ reaction, he ran out of there.

 

* * *

 

He kept running until he was well past the front of the school and surrounded by trees. God, he was so stupid to think that Stiles could like him, that Danny could be his friend. Jared was his only friend and even he was mad at him.

Greenberg walked uncaringly through the preserve for a while, he’d probably had let the pastel-haired murderer take him if he had come across her, before heading back the way he’d come.

Once he cleared the trees, he just lay in the grass for a while. It was dark by the time he’d pieced himself together enough to text Jared. Jared showed up within five minutes carrying a bucket of ice cream and a bottle of what looked like wine.

“So do you want to get stinking drunk or eat your feelings away? Or both?”

“I’m not a teenage girl,” Greenberg mumbled from the ground.

“I’ve accidentally seen your dick so believe me, I _know_. Now pick.”

“Both.”

“That’s my boy,” Jared said before sitting down and opening the ice cream.

Greenberg sat up and grabbed the bottle of wine, “Strawberry Hill? Seriously?”

“I grabbed the first thing I saw that I figured my mom wouldn’t miss. Shut up.”

Greenberg only laughed as he opened the bottle and took a swig.

A little while later he whispered ‘I’m sorry’ to Jared who responded with an ‘it’s cool’ through a mouthful of ice cream.

Eventually they ran out of both ice cream and wine (with Greenberg having had consumed most of the wine and Jared most of the ice cream) and Jared drove them to his house.

 

* * *

 

Greenberg woke up the next morning with the worst headache in the world, an itchy back, and Jared’s arm thrown across his face. Jared woke up the same (minus the headache) and he punched Greenberg in the arm before declaring that he had first dibs on the shower. It was okay because Greenberg called dibs on his sunglasses while Jared was in the shower.

School was a little better that what he imagined hell to be like, just a bit. He managed to avoid Danny throughout the day, despite Danny’s many attempts at talking to him once he saw he and Jared were talking to one another again.

Apparently life decided he couldn’t avoid him forever and Danny cornered him at the library where he was passing the time until Jared got out of practice.

“I take it you and Jared made up, I guess my advice worked. You’re welcome.”

Greenberg just stared at the pages of the book he was reading, he refused to look up.

“Yo, Greenberg!” Danny said, confusion apparent in his features.

Greenberg thought he could bore holes in the book with how hard he was staring.

“What is up with you today? You’ve been avoiding me all day. Is that how you’re going to repay me for helping you?”

Greenberg snapped.

“Helping _me_? Is that what you call offering to have sex with Stiles?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard you, in the locker room. Stiles was yelling out how he needed to have sex right then or whatever and you offered.” Greenberg was practically yelling at Danny, unable to keep his outrage under wraps.

“It was a joke.”

“It didn’t sound like a joke.”

With that Greenberg left but not before bumping up against Danny’s shoulder as he walked away. It was stupid,he knew, but he couldn't deny the fact that it did make him feel a slight bit better. He waited for Jared in the parking lot and pointedly did not look at Stiles get into his jeep and drive away. (it felt like he was driving away from Greenberg, which was stupid but his feelings wouldn’t listen.)

 

* * *

 

Friday passed by slowly, Greenberg couldn’t wait for the week to be over but it obviously didn’t feel the same. By the time last period had started, Greenberg was ready to just LEAVE.

He was out of his seat as soon as the bell had rung and he made his way over to Jared’s last class; Jared was ditching practice to hang out and play video games with Greenberg. When he found Jared, he was texting and didn’t even notice come up behind him.

“Boo.”

“Holy shit. What the fuck?” Jared said spinning around,“Greenberg! You asshole”

“What are best friends for?” Greenberg said shrugging.

“Not scaring the other half to death?”

“Now, what fun would that be?”

“None,” Jared said, resigned.

“Exactly! So do you want to stop and grab pizza on our way or order it later?”

“About that, Greenberg, I was talking to Danny and he told me it wasn’t what it sounded like.”

“Sure it wasn’t. I bet he just never planned on me finding out.”

“God, stop being a douchebag and listen to me. It was a joke, okay? People make jokes all the time Greenberg and he didn’t mean it. He’s trying to fix it.

“Fix it how? How could he ever fix it?”

“He set up a date between you and Stiles.”

“He WHAT?”

“You heard me. Now you’re going to go home, shower, change into something nice, and pick Stiles up at 8. Then you’re going to go to the nice movie theatre passing the elementary school and buy tickets to see Captain America.”

“No way. I don’t need him to set up dates for me.”

“Yes, you do and if you don’t, I’ll go pick you up and I’ll pick him up and make it the most awkward date Beacon Hills has ever seen.”

“Fine,” Greenberg said and walked away.

“Don’t forget to thank Danny later!” Jared called out behind him.

 

* * *

 

He was going on a date with Stiles. A date. With Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. His head was spinning as he walked home. He was still trying to get his head around it an hour later as he was putting on his pants. Then he was in the car and parking in front of the Sheriff’s house. Oh god, Stiles’ dad was the Sheriff. How could he have forgotten?

Thankfully, Stiles opened the door with a smile. Greenberg’s heart fluttered. This was the moment he has been waiting for since he was ten, it was unreal.

‘Hey!” Stiles said.

“Hi,” Greenberg replied.

“So, um, Danny set this up and I thought he was joking and no one would show up but you’re here.”

“I’m here!” Greenberg wanted to bury himself in the dirt. What kind of reply was that? Stiles probably thought he was the lamest person on the planet.

Stiles only laughed and closed the door behind him, “is that your car?”

“Yeah,” Greenberg said unlocking as Stiles headed for the passenger side.

“Cool,” Stiles said and got inside. “So, where are we going?”

“Uh, I thought we could go watch the Captain America movie. That is, if you haven’t seen it yet?”

“Oh no, that’s perfect! I’ve wanted to go see it ever since the rumors first hit the net but I’ve been so busy with school and everything and Scott and his issues and  it’s been a bit ridiculous but yeah, it’s perfect.”

They spent the rest of the ride discussing what they hoped was in the movie and how well they thought Chris Evans would portray the role (Stiles was skeptical ‘and plus, he’s already been a Marvel superhero! The Human Torch! Don’t you remember?’ while Greenberg thought he’d do a good job from the trailers he’d seen).

“Do you want popcorn?” Greenberg asked as they headed inside the theater.

“I don’t really like popcorn,” Stiles replied, looking around at the posters hung up around the room.

“Do you want Candy? An Icee?”

“Candy would be awesome,” Stiles said and smiled at him.

‘Cool, do you want to go find us seats while I get the stuff?”

“Sure, I’ll just go inside and I’ll see you in a bit?” he said and Greenberg nodded.

Greenberg was practically vibrating out of his skin, the car ride had gone so well. He’d made Stiles laugh more than once and every time he did, it left Greenberg with a warm feeling in his chest.

He bought sour patch kids and skittles along with two Icee’s before be made his way into the theater and looking around for Stiles. He was seated near the stop and looking worriedly at his cell phone.

“Is everything okay?” Greenberg said and Stiles startled just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah! Everything’s fine, I was just texting my dad and telling him where and who I was with.”

“What did he say? To run away?” Greenberg said, sitting down and handing Stiles his drink.

Stiles laughed, “He did but I was like 'sorry pops, he bought me candy and we’re gonna watch Captain America; I’m not going anywhere.'”

Greenberg laughed and they settled in to watch the previews. Every once in a while Stiles would lean over and make little comments about the previews.

He continued on even as the movie started and Greenberg started whispering comments back. Whenever Greenberg made a particularly funny observation, Stiles would start to laugh before he could help it and then shake from the pressure of trying to be silent.

Halfway through the movie Greenberg reached out for Stiles’ hand and Stiles slipped his fingers into his; they held hands all the way out of the theater.

“I had a good time,” Stiles said as they walked into the cold air.

“Me too,” Greenberg said and smiled. On the inside he wondered if Stiles meant it, wondered if this meant Stiles would actually greet him in the hallway. He wondered if Stiles would remember him after tonight.

 

* * *

 

The drive home was devoid of any cars which was unusual for a Friday night, but Greenberg didn't think much of it, he was too busy discussing the movie with Stiles. Stiles who made Greenberg's stomach twist and turn in the best way whenever Greenberg looked at him.

Everything was going great until the deer—it ran out in front of the car and Greenberg stomped on the breaks.

"Holy shit! Are you okay?" Greenberg said turning off the car before turning towards Stiles and checking him over for any injuries.

He didn't respond, he wasn't even looking in Greenberg's direction.

"Stiles, are you okay? STILES!" Greenberg said waving his hands in front of his face.

When Stiles finally turned to look at that, his eyes were wide.

“Did you see that? The birds just flew up to the top and tucked their wings in, they just free fell all the way down. Holy shit, holy shit, we need to get out of here.”

“Stiles, are you okay?”

“I will be as soon as you turn on the car and get us the hell out of here.”

Greenberg tried, he did. Except, “the car won’t start.”

“Are you serious? Here, let me try,” Stiles said and reached over Greenberg for the steering wheel.

“It won’t start. Why won’t it start? Oh god, this not happening. I mean I know I said it might but I never really thought it would. I need to call Scott.”

Greenberg reached across the center console and rubbed at Stiles’ shoulder as he took out his cell phone and dialed Scott.

“He’s not answering. Oh god, we are going to die before we ever get to see The Avengers movie. Joss Whedon is writing the script, Joss Whedon. Unless...” Stiles said and turned to look at Greenberg.

“I’d say this is probably the most awkward question I have and probably ever will ask someone but who are we kidding, I’m me and say awkward questions bi-weekly. Are you a virgin?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh crap. We’re screwed and not even the good kind of screwed and that’s the whole reason we’re in this mess in the first place. I’m so sorry, Greenberg, so sorry.”

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” Greenberg said just a flash of thunder sounded out overhead.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Stiles said, looking out at the sky.

“Stiles!” Greenberg yelled out, catching both his shoulder and waiting until Stiles turned to look at him. “I can’t help us if you don’t tell me what’s happening.”

“You’re not going to believe me if I told you. No one would believe me if I told them, I wouldn’t believe me if I told you so why should I expect you to?”

“Try me.”

“You know the murders that’ve been happening since school started?” Greenberg nodded as Stiles continued. "Well, they’re human sacrifices for something and we don’t know what, but I do know that they’ve all been virgins and you and I my friend, we’re prime targets and I really don’t want to die and you probably think I’m crazy.”

Stiles sank into the seat and threw his arm over his eyes, it was kind of adorable.

“I don’t think you’re crazy and I know about the human sacrifices. Stiles, you and Scott aren’t exactly quiet.”

“Are you serious?” Stiles said, incredulously.

“Yeah, when I found out, Jared and I joked that it was probably some soft grunge wannabe with pastel hair and hipster glasses, except that it’s not funny anymore, considering.”

“Soft grunge?”

“It’s difficult to explain but that’s probably not a priority right now considering we’re probably going to die.”

“Unless...” Stiles said, sitting up and looking at Greenberg.

“Unless?”

“We’re not virgins.”

“Stiles, that’s kind of impossible, considering we haven’t—oh. You mean? Do you mean what I think you mean?”

“It’s totally okay if you don’t want to but I like you and you like me and I really don’t want to die. I mean, we could try to make a run for it but I don’t know how far we’d get. I could try calling Scott again?”

Greenberg stopped paying attention, his brain replaying the same three words over and over again. “I like you.” Stiles liked him. Him. Stiles liked him. Stiles would be okay with having sex with him because Stiles LIKED HIM.

Greenberg's head was buzzing, but he forced himself to calm down because there was something nudging at the back of his mind that he couldn’t just ignore, no matter how much he just wanted to jump Stiles’ bones.

"Wait...you like me? Like, like me-like me?"

Stiles' returning look was puzzled, and Greenberg spluttered as he went on.

"I mean, it's just, we haven't really ...isn't this a bit quick? Not that I wouldn't wanna, I've sort of liked you since elementary school—but you’ve always kind of ignored me..." he trailed off.

Stiles sighed, a twinge of hurt intermingling with the panic still clearly displayed on his face. "I do, I've sort of liked you from afar for a while, I always really liked talking to you. There was just so much going on that..." Stiles gestured vaguely.

"It was my own issues, it was never anything you did. It's just that I didn't really know how to be close to anyone else." Stiles was quiet for a bit, something Greenberg found disconcerting.

"Yes," Greenberg blurted out, trying to dissipate the silence.

“What?” Stiles snapped out if his staring contest with the radio and looked at Greenberg, who felt himself nervously swallow.

“I want to be not virgins with you.”

“Really?” Stiles said, some of the panic fading away from his face.

“Yes,” Greenberg said and leaned in to kiss Stiles. Except their noses bumped and—

“Oh god, that was awkward,” Greenberg blurted out.

Stiles only laughed and grabbed onto Greenberg’s chin before leaning in and that was nice, no nose bumping. Their lips moved against one another's for a bit before Stiles broke away.

“Something’s digging into my thigh,” Stiles said laughing before crawling over the console and into Greenberg’s lap.

“I don’t think that’s the best position for you if you don’t want something digging into your thigh,” Greenberg said, scooting the seat back to make room for Stiles.

“Now that, is something I won’t mind,” Stiles said and laughed before he leaned down to kiss Greenberg again.

Their kissing grew heated, almost needy. A roll of a tongue and fingers—those deft, long fingers Greenberg had spent so long fantasizing about—were tracing his chest and  hastily pushing the fabric of his T-shirt over his stomach. Greenberg groaned and he quickly started unbuttoning Stiles' plaid shirt. Clothes were stripped off, tossed onto the car's dashboard and backseat carelessly, until the two were in nearly nothing.

Greenberg forced his mouth off of Stiles's with a faint pop, as a terribly clear thought pushed through the sweet haze in his mind.

"Shit," he whispered. "I don't have any—uh, anything."

Stiles sat up on Greenberg's legs (Jesus did Stiles look good, his face slightly flushed in the moonlight, his stomach taut) and passed a rather embarrassed hand over his rumpled hair. He reached over to his bag and yanked a package, wrapped in ripped gift paper.

"Danny..." Stiles cleared his throat, the redness on his face intensifying.

"He, uh, gave me this when he set up the date, said I might need it and to not open it until 'the time was right'... But you know me, I had to know what—what, uh was inside."

Greenberg could see the contents pretty easily from where Stiles had torn it, condoms and lube. He whispered a silent prayer of thanks to Danny as he tugged Stiles back on top of him for a messy kiss. The two quickly devolved into a heap of limbs, fingers skimming over skin and mouths sucking, until Greenberg's hard-on hit another particularly hard spot.

"Stiles," Greenberg gasped, " _Stiles_."

His hand hastily swept over to the fallen package of condoms. And then, he paused.

"What?" Stiles asked, but Greenberg only wordlessly held up the package. The XXL package, to put it more plainly. Stiles let out a small noise that was somewhere between laughter and embarrassed surprise.

"Danny may—" Stiles coughed lightly,"—may have um...overestimated..."

Greenberg didn't say a word, but to Stiles's greater surprise he tugged his briefs and peeked.

"I dunno," Greenberg said, flushing pink. "It could work."

"Well," Stiles huffed, grinning and passing a hand over Greenberg's cock, making him squeak, "I guess skinny jeans really don’t show everything."

The two were silent, a tension in the air that even humor couldn't quite dissipate. Slowly, Stiles opened the package, taking out a condom and gently tugging it over Greenberg's length. Greenberg gritted his teeth as he did it, trying not to make any embarrassing noises (and trying not to just let himself go because god, did that feel good). With a pop of the lube cap, Stiles slicked Greenberg's cock, stroking him up and down slowly.

Greenberg took a deep breath, taking the bottle from Stiles with shaky hands.AA

"Soooooo," his voice cracked, "I haven't exactly done this before—"

Stiles cut him off with a laugh; "that's the general definition of 'virgin,' dude. Just-"

He shuffled  out of his briefs, half-toppling onto the steering wheel. "Get at the booty. Or something."

It would've been funny if it weren't so... _so_...

Greenberg gulped and watched as Stiles shakily prepped himself. He was braced against the steering wheel, fingering in with slicked fingers until two, then three, were completely in and his chest was shaking with his heaving breaths. Greenberg's fingers traced his waist and guided his hips downward.

 

* * *

 

It was... terrible. The two bumbled about a bit—and Greenberg was pale and seriously contemplated booking it and facing whatever soft grunge witch awaited him more than once. Stiles managed to reposition himself though by reaching down and pulling at the seat lever until the seat (and Greenberg) toppled backwards some and somehow they eventually managed the dick-in-ass thing, Stiles pushing down with a rather loud gasp of pain.

"Sorry," Greenberg whispered, struggling to push in slowly.

"F-fah—It's fine," Stiles winced, wriggling around. "I've used...stuff before, it just... Takes a little, ah,  getting used to..."

Greenberg thrust, as slowly as he could, keeping a constant eye on Stiles' face. Stiles pushed further down over his cock, wincing and pushing a hand over his face, and then biting his lower lip as a particularly deep thrust hit a sensitive spot.

"There we go," he hissed, "better."

He pushed against Greenberg in earnest, hand on his own cock as Greenberg's upper thrusts poked at his prostate, sending trickles of a dull pleasure through him. Greenberg was sweating with the effort, pulling back out and pushing back in with a small moan—building a steadier, if trembly, rhythm. But god, Stiles was so tight, so hot, and Greenberg could only think about the trickle of pre-cum he could pooling onto his stomach, of Stiles’ arms, of his mouth, firm against his own or moaning out obscenities, and fuck Greenberg could feel himself building, feel it pulsing through his dick with every thrust, each one easier than the last.

"Fuck," Stiles murmured.

"Fuck, Greenberg, fuuuuckk, yes-" His back arched, and in an almost desperate gesture he grabbed his own cock, tugging at it—and god, the pressure combined with that sight really was too much and with a strangled moan Greenberg felt himself come, all the blood rushing to his head with orgasm. Stiles stroked himself a few more times before his own orgasm came, ropes of come spurting onto Greenberg's stomach, and he flopped down on top of Greenberg—sweaty and exhausted and gasping for breath.

"Please tell me there will be a second date," Greenberg asked, voice husky. Stiles laughed, louder than either of them expected and Greenberg couldn't help but choke out a breathy laugh of his own.

"Seeing as we don't have our imminent deaths to worry about," Stiles said, nuzzling into Greenberg's chest, "I'd have to say definitely."

 

* * *

 

Later they’d get cleaned up and Greenberg would try turning the car on again find it working.

Later he and Stiles would kiss goodnight in front of Stiles’ house before Stiles went inside, his steps a little awkward.

Later Greenberg would thank Danny and apologize for overreacting.

Later Greenberg would call Jared and Stiles would call Scott and they’d both tell them to ‘leave out any scarring details, please’ while Greenberg and Stiles laughed into the receiver.

Later they’d talk about the reasons Stiles had for ignoring him.

Later they’d talk about everything Greenberg had overheard and Stiles would introduce him to Scott and Isaac.

But they’d do all that stuff later, for now they were just content to lay on top of one another as their breathing evened out and their heartbeats synchronized.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case anyone was confused, I altered the timeline at the end there. Also, if the Raiders thing doesn't make sense, here's an explanation. Fanon has pretty much put BH in Northern California and the Raiders are a SoCal team (and they suck tbh) so that's a little joke there with like sports rivalries. 
> 
> This is the longest thing I've ever written and I had a lot of fun writing it despite wanting to pull my hair out multiple times. 
> 
> I'd really like to thank Bry for beta-ing and just helping me out with everything (including the sex, she's awesome) and Ked for dealing with me.  
> Also, so many thanks to the fest mods who had to deal with me and my multiple extensions.


End file.
